Playing The Wolves' Game
by feral emotion
Summary: It wasn't ever easy, starting over, but some things made it a lot more bearable. For Candi, it was the brooding man in the leather jacket. So she would put up with supernatural shenanigans, for him.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Okay, so this probably isn't the update some of you were hoping for. I know I said I would be posting rewritten chapters (A looong time ago), and I still intend to do that but going through my former plot and just how everything was written just made me lose inspiration. So, it's taken me awhile to figure out just how I want to start rewriting this bad boy, and I think I've finally got it. When I first started writing, I myself didn't know why Derek found himself so attracted to Candi, so that was one of the first things I formulated. I didn't know if I would make Candi a werewolf, or how she would really fit into all the big drama that happened at the end of the season, and now I have a clearer picture.

Anyway, enough of my rambling. Here's the prologue (I apologize for its depressing shortness) to my revamped story, first real chapter should be coming soon. Sorry for deleting the old one when I could have just replaced the first chapter with this, but since I want to evolve from my previous writing, I thought this was a good way to go. I hope you like it!

**_ DISCLAIMER__:_** I do not own Teen Wolf, that's property of MTV. I do however own my own characters and any little differences you see in the plot line. Please don't steal any of them.

* * *

_I hear it fading, I can't speak it,_

_Or else you will dig my grave;  
You fear them finding, always whining...  
Take my hand now be alive!_

_Forsaken, David Draiman_

**_Prologue_**

* * *

Wolves mated for life. This was fact, simple irrefutable fact. But for werewolves, the supernatural beings that the majority of the world believed to be fiction, it wasn't as simple. A werewolf, male or female, didn't lay their eyes on a random soul and turn into a panting dog to try and gain their affection. No, when they found that person, be it human or fellow wolf, it was a much more subtle taunting process to fall. But falling was imminent. Derek figured Scott would know all about that, the way he followed Argent's daughter around like a lost little puppy.

_Argent._ He growled at the mere word. For the briefest of moments, when he was only seventeen, he had thought that he could find lifelong love in in an Argent. She had been older, out of high school, with blonde hair and a seductive smile; Kate. But he had been nothing but a disposable pawn in her little game. He had been hormonal, a hormonal young werewolf that thought with the head below his waist rather than the one on his shoulders, and it was that that cost his family their lives.

The moral of the story? Finding love, finding something equivalent to a true wolf's mate, was for fucking idiots. Derek wasn't an idiot, and refused to be caught in another woman's… no, be caught in another _human girl's_ trap. Because that's what she had been, a girl, probably around Scott's age.

Nothing but a little human girl. A girl with dark purple hair that seemed to set off her indigo eyes _just right._ A girl with a sheepish smile, obviously no instinctual skills on deciphering danger or she wouldn't have approached him in the first place, and a complexion that was just dark enough to be considered exotic. A damned girl that gave off one of the most delectable scents he had ever encountered. _A delicious sugary vanilla swirled with honey and sprinkled with jasmine. Was that even possible?_ He supposed the cause was her origins, she had a very detectable accent, more of a soft Texas twang.

But it didn't matter. He had thought Kate smelled good, especially when she was underneath him. He had thought her raspy teasing voice was a heavenly symphony. He even figured that her gray-green eyes were gorgeous. Then he found out that the perfume she wore hid the deceit in her scent, that her voice always held undercurrents of venom and the warmth in her gaze was all forced and fake.

He wouldn't be caught again. _Never again._

Later on that night his claws shot out in his sleep to rip into the assortment of blankets and sleeping bags that made up his pallet just before eyelids opened to reveal an iris that was tinged with a glowing blue. He shoved the palms of his hand into his temples before tearing his now clawless fingers through his messy black hair. After laying awake for a few minutes he brought his right hand back up and glared at the offending appendage. In his dream it had been wrapped around dark violet hair.


	2. Curiosity Killed the Cat

**A/N**: This is short, shorter than the original version of this chapter, I know. Sorry, but I promise that the coming chapters will be longer. I've figured some more changes for this story, so if any of my readers knew the original, I hope that where I'm taking this one will satisfy for my long ass time of not updating. I believe that's all for now, so please review and leave critiques... and just about whatever else you wanna leave. I love it all. _  
_

* * *

_I've been roaming around, always looking down at all I see_

_Painted faces fill the places I can't reach_

_You know that I could use somebody, You know that I could use somebody_

_Someone like you and all you know and how you speak._

_-Use Somebody, Kings of Leon__._

_**Chapter One: Curious Killed the Cat**_

* * *

"Shit," I hissed as my hand quickly dropped the assortment of tacks it had been carrying. I hastily hopped away from the painful accident waiting to happen and shoved the finger that had the shallow cut in my mouth. Well, at least I had most of my posters tacked up; there was the Boondock Saints on my small walk-in-closet door, Game of Thrones' Daenerys and Jon plastered side-by-side above the short entertainment center that held the television electronics and then there was the assortment of bands, singular artists, and all of the other random things that I liked to put on my four walls. It was neatly done, stylish, and went great with all of the other pieces of furniture around my new airy room. All but the damned Foster the People spread that hung awkwardly with only one yellow tack.

My breath came out in a short burst as I gave the pointy objects that still lay on the dark wood floor a sharp glare. Just as I knelt down to carefully scoop them up and deposit all but three on my corner computer and working desk, there was a sharp knocking on my closed door. "Come in." I called distractedly; there was only one person it could be. Jasmine swung the door opened and walked across my floor with a small pep in her step, not stopping until she reached out to hold the poster steady for me. "Thanks." I mumbled, finishing up the job on the bottom. Jaz just smiled and scratched up the top of my head before I could get out of my crouching position. We were pretty much the same height, nearly the same everything. The same dark skin tone, button nose, high cheekbones, and lips that were just about too full for our ovular faces. We even had the same hair color, when it wasn't dyed.

The eyes were the only real difference we had; she had a pretty mixture of gray-green, and I had inherited our mother's glossy blue that resembled indigo more than anything else.

"You're welcome." She took the time to survey what I had been working on the past couple of hours. I wanted everything arranged differently from the room I had grown up in. Change was good, change was needed, and there was nothing more changing than going from the heat of Houston, Texas to the cool air of Beacon Hills, California. I had a new environment with an available fresh start, and I was sure as hell going to use it. "It looks nice. So do you like the new comforter?" She walked over to the queen sized mattress to pat the soft lavender sheets that held black flower and vine designs.

"Yeah, it's really pretty. Feels awesome too." Her mouth quirked up in a pleased smile.

"That's good, so you know that restaurant I got a job bartending at?" She didn't necessarily need a job at the moment, but I respected her on her need to support herself. We were fortunate enough to have plenty of money growing up, but Jaz liked to pay her share of things without dipping into those bank accounts as much as possible. Dominic, her longtime boyfriend-turned-fiancé that had gotten a job at his uncles' law firm in a nearby city, came from wealthy parents as well.

"Yeah, Marvin's Bar and Grill."

She made an affirmative noise. "That's right. Anyway, I was thinking we go and meet Nico there for dinner. Sound good?"

"Sounds great, I'm starving." I said, putting a hand up to my stomach. It was six o'clock, and I had only previously had a sandwich. Depressing.

"Awesome, think you'll be ready in thirty minutes?"

I hummed my affirmation, already going to my recently stocked closet as Jasmine padded out silently. It was warm out tonight; Dominic said that at this late in the year that was rare. In the Texas heat you get used to wearing light, airy clothes, so in preparation for the climate change I had donated quite a few of my older less used shorts and skirts. As well as several shirts and shoes. Jaz had convinced herself and me that it was good to completely clear out every once in a while, and that once we got settled in we could go shopping. I finally chose a cute blue and white striped strapless shirt with dark wash jean shorts and paired it off with a pair of black strapped sandals.

My hair fell in long layers that ended just at my top ribs, and a week prior I had dyed it purple while my sister went red. Dominic hadn't been too thrilled about it, but he let it go well enough because both of our colors were already starting to fade out to the same dark brunette. At the moment the soft waves were tame, so I left them alone and took the time to fix my eyes with liner and mascara. I wasn't high maintenance, but I didn't like to go around not giving a damn about what I looked like. Satisfied, I left my bathroom that connected with my new bedroom and skipped down the dark wooded stairs.

Jasmine was already down, waiting with her the Xterra's keys in her hand. "I've always liked that shirt on you." She said as we both walked out into the afternoon glow. In the big pasture to the left of the house I could see Nirvana following the fence line that ended abruptly at the forest. There was a big barn situated in the corner closest to the house that held two stables and a room for feed and tack. The structure was one of the main reasons that this was the place we settled on. I paused at the dark green door to smile at the gorgeous black and white overo paint. Jasmine followed my gaze and laughed. "He seems happy."

"He is." I agreed, opening the door and slipping in. The drive to Marvin's was only about fifteen minutes, most of which was spent in a comfortable silence.

"So are you ready for school Monday?" We had arrived Wednesday and while Jasmine was making her new bartending job official Dominic had taken me to the high school to register for my senior year. I could have done it myself, but I wouldn't turn eighteen until October.

"I don't think anybody is ever ready to be the new girl." I responded dryly, glancing over to see her smirking face.

"That's because kids today lack ingenuity." She teased.

I stopped slouching to stare at her. "I'm pretty sure you're in my generation."

"Nope. Twenty-four and up are retarded, y'all are just worthless." I rolled my eyes at that. "But seriously, it's not going to be that bad."

"I guess, I've just never had to really make new friends like this, y'know?" We had grown up in the house that had become too painful to stay in. Every time I had passed the living room I was reminded of what the cream surface rug had looked like with dark splotches of dried blood. Sometimes I even saw it. Before my thoughts went any further down _that_ road I threw my left leg on the dashboard. Jaz tensed up and crinkled her lip. I made a sardonic smile and casually lifted my bare shoulders. "But, how hard can it be."

"With your outstanding manners, I'm positive you'll do fine." She grumbled, turning on her blinker to pull into the clean parking lot full of cars. The place was nice, but not exactly upscale. It was perfectly stationed in the middle. When entering, it gave off a country vibe with lots of light colored wood and an antler chandelier type thing. The hostess was a pretty red head who greeted my sister by her name, shot me a smile and led us to a corner booth where Dominic was waiting with our drinks already there.

"Thanks Nico." I said, leaning down to take a sip of the strawberry lemonade.

"No problem." He answered, and then leaned over to kiss Jaz. I averted my eyes from the loving display until he gained my attention again. "So kid, you ready for Monday." Jasmine just laughed while I leaned my head down and groaned.

"We just discussed that actually, babe. Candi's psyched."

"Psyched." I affirmed in monotone. Dominic shifted his eyes between us before shrugging. I think when Jaz and I acted like we were now, or when we fought, he liked to step back and just watch the show. He claimed our close sisterly connection was one of the most interesting and funniest things he'd encountered. Then again, he was an only child so sibling interaction was bound to fascinate him.

Finally the confusion left his face, sometimes I seriously wondered how this man-child was an actual lawyer, and he continued on. "So, the area seems nice."

Jasmine made a noise of agreement behind her straw. I made a gesture of approval. In my opinion there were certain places that brought certain stereotypes to mind. It was so easy to forget that California wasn't all long beaches, giant conches and perfectly toned babes. There were people that weren't tanned to perfection, towns that weren't filled with weird street vendors, and the weather wasn't always sunny. Beacon Hills sure as hell wasn't a Cali cliché, and I liked that about the place.

* * *

"Pringles, salt and vinegar Pringles. And a Mountain-". I slammed Nico's truck door before he could shout at me anymore and laughed. After a very good dinner, Marvin's Bar and Grill had delicious fried mushrooms, Jaz had offered to make a trip to a liquor store close by so we could really break the new house in. In a wild teenager's point of view, it was a great thing that Jaz didn't mind me drinking. If I could pay for it and didn't bring home failing grades, she would buy it.

The gas station was barren, except for the middle aged cashier who smiled kindly and questioned if I was new to town. "What gave me away."

"That thick accent, now have a nice night."

"You too!" I called over my shoulder, frowning as soon as I stepped out into the now chilly night air. The truck was parked on the other side of the store, but before I could even start making my way around a loud shattering of glass made me jump back against the wall of the Valero. Through the opening on top of the gas pump I was able to see dark hair, the only thing I could make out of the man who just had one of his windows smashed. He remained deathly still, most likely glaring as the men who did it drove off in identical, black SUV's.

Southern hospitality deemed I say something, but even without that my morals were strong. I gripped the black plastic bag tightly as I jogged across the parking lot. "Hey!" I yelled, wanting to let him know of my presence before startling him. He turned from fading headlights to deliver a glare in my direction, the weight of the gaze freezing me. His stance turned threatening, insinuated by the way he slammed the nozzle back into its holder. I held my hand up, trying to be placating; it was normal that he would be pissed and suspicious. I also tried, and failed, to maintain contact with his _very _intenseeyes and not let my own trail down to his broad shoulders and muscular chest that was obvious by the way his clothes clung to his form underneath the leather jacket.

"I mean, that was just… rude?" It came out more as a question, his stare making me more insecure than I had been in a while. And then it was lifted from his extremely attractive face, and quickly shifted to a sort of twisted amusement. The kind of amusement that a bully got when their victims tried to stand up for themselves; a horrible comparison, but it was the closest I could come up with. His face seemed to be saying 'really, that's what you come up with.' Trying to backtrack and make myself look less like an idiot, I tried something else. "Or, well, why didn't you do anything?"

There was a honk from the other side of the store; an impatient Nico, but I wanted to see if this stranger would answer. It wasn't a smart move to talk to people you didn't know, but growing up on the actual _good_ side of Houston, where chivalry was still a thing, you got used to being kind to everyone. He was silent, the look he gave heavy. I wondered if the stranger danger rule counted for gorgeous men in leather jackets by black muscle cars. Probably. Giving into defeat at my attempt to be nice, I took a step back and got ready to turn around. His voice, just as effective as his glare, halted me. "I know how to pick my fights." His voice wasn't overly deep, but it was perfectly masculine and smooth with that rough edge.

"Well, sorry for assholes either way." I think I saw the very tip of his mouth twitch up. I wasn't positive because I could only really focus on the dark scruff across his defined chin and right below his amazingly high cheek bones. Tired of waiting, Nico revved the engine of his truck. I quickly turned and speed walked to put enough space between us as the big black truck came around the corner and stopped right in front of me. I hopped in, cursing myself for at least not getting the man's name. I wondered if he would even have given it.

Nico was curious but I played it off easily enough. Or he just let it go, because as idiotic as he could be, Dominic was still a shark.


End file.
